His Best Mistake (Shillings Agency) Read online

  She laughed but cut it off quickly. “Uh…okay.”

  “Excellent. I’ll call you…” He leaned back and considered her. Long legs that went on for miles. A waist that cinched in before flaring out gently for her hips. Breasts that looked as if they’d fit in his palms perfectly. She was, hands down, the prettiest woman he’d ever met, besides—he shut that thought off right away. Tonight wasn’t about her. “Scarlett.”

  She choked on a laugh. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is it the red hair?” she asked drily.

  “Yeah. I’ve always had a thing for Black Widow, and she had red, curly hair like yours.” He reached out and tugged a curl gently. She sucked in a breath and held it, staring at him with wide eyes. “Shorter, but still. Scarlett it is.”

  “All right, then.” She leaned closer, giving him the same careful inspection he’d given her. It didn’t escape his notice that her new position lifted her breasts and offered a delicious display of cleavage for him to enjoy. He shifted uncomfortably, his body coming to life a little bit too enthusiastically. “In keeping with the Marvel theme, you’ll be…Chris. Or Tom. Nah. Definitely Chris.”

  “Hold up.” His interest in her kicked up about twenty notches. “Don’t tell me you like superheroes. Or, even better, all of their movies…even The Avengers?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “That’s it, Scarlett. I’m keeping you. You don’t have a choice. I found a beautiful woman who likes superheroes. That’s the mecca of the dating world.” He grinned and lifted his pink drink. “To our happy future together.”

  For a second, he saw panic gathering in her eyes, and he thought he’d taken the joke one step too far. But then she picked up her drink, clinked it to his, and said, “To Chris and Scarlett.”

  They both took a sip, and Mark winced. It tasted like a damn lollipop. “This is…” Sweet. Horrible. Alcohol-less. “Good.”

  She laughed and took it out of his hand, lifting her arm as she slid his sweet drink toward her other one. The bartender came back immediately. “He’ll have a double shot of whiskey, neat.”

  “How’d you know I liked it neat?” he asked, not even bothering to argue because that pink shit was not his thing.

  “I had a feeling.”

  She stared down at the cosmos, spinning his in a slow, careful circle. As he watched, she lifted it and took a sip out of his glass, her lips touching where his had been moments before.

  His cock hardened, and he had the caveman-like urge to pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her to his room. “Well, you were right.”

  “I usually am,” she said absentmindedly.

  His drink came, and when she reached for her purse, he rested a hand over hers, his fingers resting on her impossibly smooth skin. “I’ve got it, Scarlett.”

  The second he touched her, it was like a bolt of electricity shot between them, sparking to life. She jerked away, clearly as caught off guard by the jolt as he, and hid her hand behind her back, breathing heavily. “O-Okay.”

  After he paid the server, he took a healthy drink, because he needed it. There was something about his Scarlett that was as startling as it was magnetic. “Where are you from?”

  “Colorado.” She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. “You?”

  “I grew up in Pennsylvania.”

  She nodded, not pressing for more information, just like he didn’t press her. There was something nice about not knowing more than the bare minimum about one another. They were just a girl and a guy in a bar, talking. She lifted the cosmo to her mouth. When she pulled it away, she licked her lips slowly. He couldn’t look away from the tip of her tongue as it ran across her plump red lips. His pulse pounded, and his khakis were too damn tight all of a sudden.

  He hadn’t been a monk since Tina died. He’d had a lover here and there, but they never stuck around for long. He didn’t let them. He’d had the love of his life, and she’d died.

  He didn’t want another.

  Could he love again? Yeah. But he could also lose again.

  He’d already lost enough.

  Still, there was something about Scarlett that shook him. “Are you okay?” he asked slowly, shifting closer.

  Laughing, she took another sip, almost halfway through the first of the two cocktails. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You don’t know me. I don’t know you. After these drinks are gone and we go back to our rooms, we’ll never see each other again. If you want to talk, or tell someone what’s wrong—someone who doesn’t have a stake in your life, or someone who won’t remember what you said every time they see you…” He shrugged. “Well. I’m a good listener.”

  She stared at him, her mouth parted, her cheeks flushed, her grip on the stem of the martini glass so tight it was a miracle it didn’t snap. “I’m not a good talker.”

  “That’s okay.” He turned on the stool, resting the front of his knees on her chair. “Talk, or don’t, but either way, I’m here.” When she didn’t say anything, just bit down on her lip, he cleared his throat. “What happened to your arm?”

  “I fell down a fire escape.”

  He lifted a brow. “Why?”

  “I was bored. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She rolled her eyes and finished off the drink, setting the empty glass behind the still full one. “I slipped. Obviously.”

  “Obviously,” he echoed, his tone sardonic.

  “It’s been two years.”

  He blinked. “That’s a hell of a long time to wear a cast.”

  “What? No.” She glanced at her arm, then back at him. She looked so…so…alone. “Since he died. Today. It’s been two years.”

  “Father?”

  She shook her head once. “No.”

  Oh. Well, that was something he was all too familiar with himself, something that had almost consumed him after Tina was killed in the line of duty. They’d both been in the Marines and had fallen in love at Camp Pendleton. It had been a whirlwind relationship, and when he was about to be shipped off to Afghanistan, she’d found out she was pregnant. They’d married, he’d left, and when he came back to a baby daughter, it had been her turn to deploy overseas shortly thereafter. They’d had two months as a happy family before she left. Her convoy was ambushed by insurgents, and she’d never come back. So, yeah, he was all too familiar with the way the sadness of loss could crush you if you let it.

  His daughter Ginny was the only thing that kept him sane.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached out, rested a hand over hers, and squeezed. This time, she didn’t pull back. She lifted her head, locked eyes with him, and swallowed hard. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Car crash.” She licked her lips. “He had his seat belt on, but it wasn’t enough. The guy driving the other car was drunk and didn’t even see him coming.”

  Mark winced. “I’m sorry. Was he your husband?”

  “Fiancé.” She let out a short, hard laugh and rubbed her forehead. Her fingers twitched under his, but she didn’t retreat. “We had a week until the wedding. One. Frigging. Week.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” She picked up her drink, took a long sip, and set it back down with a clink on the bar. “I had my final dress fitting that same day. I called him, excited because it fit, and it was perfect, and I’d loved him my whole freaking life, and we were getting married. And then…” She swallowed hard, staring straight ahead. “And then he was gone. Just like that. Gone.”

  He stared at her, at a loss for words. But he tried his best anyway. “I wish I could say something to make it better, but I know firsthand that nothing does. That pain, that loss, it never goes away. At least, for me it hasn’t.” And he had a daily reminder in Ginny of just how much he’d lost. She looked so much like Tina that it hurt. “It never will.”

  She bit her lip. “Did you…?”

  “My wife. A little over two years ago.”

  “Oh, God.” She flipped her
hand, entwining her fingers with his. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah.” He stared at their hands, and for the first time in…well, forever…he didn’t feel quite so alone. He wasn’t sure what he thought about that, since he preferred being alone now. It was safer. Smarter. It just made sense. “Me too, Scarlett.”

  They locked eyes, staring at each other, neither one moving.

  “Does it still hurt you all the time? Or just sometimes?” she asked slowly.

  “Mostly in the morning. When I wake up.” And when Ginny laughed, and the dimples in her cheeks appeared, like Tina’s had. “And at night, when I’m trying to fall asleep. You?”

  “It’s just as strong as the day I lost him, but I notice it less frequently now,” she admitted, blinking rapidly. “And I feel bad about that. Like, I shouldn’t be happy. And I shouldn’t want…shouldn’t want…”

  “To move on?” he supplied, when she didn’t finish.

  “Yes,” she said slowly, staring at his mouth. “To be happy. To be…intimate…with any other man besides him.” She slowly lifted her gaze from his mouth, but the damage was done. He’d seen the desire burning in her eyes, and an answering need surged within him. “To even want to.”

  He couldn’t help but feel she was talking about right now, in particular, with him. Because she was holding on to him, and every breath she took shifted her closer, and so help him God, he wanted her to be talking about him.

  Because if she was as drawn to him as he was to her…

  “I know. Me either. There have been women here and there, but nothing serious. And I’ve gone on a few blind dates, when I’ve forgotten I don’t want anything serious and tried to pretend like I might someday.” Including one disastrous date with his coworker’s now-fiancée, but that was a whole other story. “But nothing ever came of them, because I don’t want another relationship. Not like I had. But tonight…”

  She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching. “Yeah?”

  “Tonight…” He leaned in and ran his finger down her jaw, locked eyes with her, and put himself out there because why the hell not? If he made a fool out of himself, no one would ever know. “Now, I feel like we were put here together for a reason, as corny as that sounds.”

  She shivered at his touch. “And that reason is what? For me to be another girl for you to have and then forget, since you don’t want more than that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that we understand one another. And this is a tough night for you. So, I’m here”—he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger—“and you can do whatever you need to do to me, with me, and no one will ever give a damn. Whether we drink until we both forget our names, or I just here beside you, shut up, and hold your hand, or…whatever. Anything. I’ll give it to you. I’m yours tonight, Scarlett.”

  She swallowed so hard he heard it. “Anything?”

  “Yep.” He let go of her chin reluctantly. “Any damn thing.”

  For a second, she stared at his mouth, and he was sure she was going to kiss him. And, damn it, he wanted her to go ahead and do it. One unquestionable sign that she wanted more than hand holding, and he’d be hers.

  Shivering, she pulled free of him, picked up her cosmo, and downed it in one gulp. “In that case…keep up, Chrissy boy. We’re closing the bar tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  I wish I were drunk. Everything would be so much easier if I were.

  Two hours later, Daisy leaned on the cool elevator wall and closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh. These past couple of hours with “Chris” had been…nice. And now they were alone in an elevator together, and that feeling he mentioned earlier, that they were meant to find each other tonight, wasn’t leaving.

  If anything, it was even stronger now that they were alone.

  She was so screwed.

  “Which Chris am I?” he asked.

  “Hmm?” She opened her eyes and almost gasped, because his face was right there, next to hers. Well, not next to it. He was a heck of a lot taller than her. But still. He was close. Too close for comfort, because she wanted…wanted…

  “Which Chris?” he repeated slowly, clearly not as fazed as she by their close proximity. “Chris Hemsworth, or Chris Evans?”

  “Evans.” She gestured toward his dark blond hair. “Your hair’s too short to be Thor.”

  He snorted. “I could grow it out.”

  “Don’t.” Slowly, she reached out and touched his hair. It was parted to the side, and soft to the touch. It had been so long since she touched a man’s hair. Since… Swallowing, she shook her head slightly, refusing to think about him right now. She’d done enough of that tonight. “I like it like this. I like you the way you are.”

  His gaze dipped down to her mouth, but he didn’t close the distance between them. A part of her, a very loud part, wanted him to. Ached for him to. “I like you, too.”

  There they went with the staring again.

  The tension was so high Daisy had two choices—to kiss him, or to laugh. She chose the latter. A small giggle escaped her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. God. She didn’t giggle. Little girls giggled. Cheerleaders giggled. Not her. “Uh…”

  A smile lit up his face, and he brushed his knuckles across the back of her cheeks. “You look happier,” he said, his voice so soft she almost missed it.

  “I am,” she answered honestly. “Right now, I am.”

  It won’t last, though.

  Was it wrong to be happy with another man, today of all days?

  A few hours ago, she would have said yes. But now, with Chris, she wasn’t so sure.

  The elevator doors opened, and she pushed off the wall, ending their little staring contest, that emptiness already creeping back up her spine. “Well, this is me.”

  He followed her, staving off the loneliness for another minute or two, anyway. “I’ll walk you to your door. You drank a lot.”

  “So did you,” she pointed out helpfully. She’d spaced out her booze, and made sure not to lose control. She might want to forget, but she didn’t want to be stupid.

  “I’m bigger than you. I can handle more.”

  “I’m fine. I paced myself.” If only she weren’t fine, maybe she would have the balls to grab his shirt, haul him down to her level, and kiss him already, because he was clearly respecting the boundaries she’d set up earlier, whether she still wanted him to or not. And she wasn’t sure if she did anymore. “But thank you for worrying, and for walking me to my door. It’s very gentlemanlike of you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said gruffly

  They walked down the hallway side by side, their arms brushing. Every time they touched, something inside her tensed up even more, building up pressure until she was sure she was going to explode if he didn’t either stop, or do something more than accidentally brush against her.

  When she halted at her door, he stopped directly behind her, towering over her. “God, how tall are you? Six-four?” she blurted out.

  “Exactly.” He cocked his head. “How’d you know?”

  “I guessed.”

  “You’re good at that.” He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring slightly when she swayed closer. He looked way too sexy standing there with his first few shirt buttons undone, and his jacket open. She wasn’t even sure when he’d done that, but it was hot as hell. “At guessing.”

  It would be so easy to grab the lapels of that jacket and pull him closer. And she’d get to find out what he tasted like—whiskey, more than likely, but still, she needed to know. The old her, the one before she lost everything…she would have gone for it. Would have taken what she wanted and not hesitated. But it had been so long since she touched a man, let alone kissed one, and he wasn’t William. He’d never be William.

  But tonight…

  He could be hers.

  Resting an arm over her head on the wall, he offered her a small smile, and tugged on her hair playfully. “What are you thinking about that’s g
ot you blushing, Scarlett?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her cheeks going even hotter. She spun and pressed her key against the reader until it blinked green. The heat of his body was directly behind her, burning her.

  Hands trembling, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. She should go inside. Leave him in the hallway, along with any bad choices she might have made with him. But…

  Was it bad? Was it so wrong to want one night where she didn’t miss the love of her life? One night where she didn’t have to be alone? “Would you like some water? I have a few bottles in my mini fridge.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, letting out a soft laugh. “If I come in there, we both know it’s not going to be for water.”

  “Like I said.” Heart pounding, palms sweating, she lifted her chin. “Want to come in?”

  He stared at her, his hard chest rising and falling rapidly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve been drinking.”

  “I assure you, I can hold my liquor. Three drinks over a two-hour period doesn’t make me drunk.”

  He took a step closer, not coming in, but not leaving, either. “Scarlett…are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “You’re not. I’m sober. And I’m horny. And I like you. And you said you would be here, for whatever I wanted, all night long. You keep looking at me like you want to kiss me, but you’re not, so I’m taking the initiative, and I’m inviting you to just go ahead and do it already. To kiss me. To make me forget. And maybe I’ll make you forget, too. I know you miss your wife, and I miss William, and…yeah. So I want us to be each other’s person tonight.” She lifted her chin, cutting herself off because she was babbling again. “But if you don’t want to—”